Lifting his hands in surrender, Benjamin smirked.
Watching him for just a moment, Mrs. Tate turned back to David and said, “Miss Lyons and Mrs. Ellery are your likeliest bets, though I cannot recall their costumes.” The lady paused, her brow furrowing. “I cannot say I am certain about the latter, though. I do not believe she is eager to remarry so soon after her husband’s passing.”
“Nonsense. She is so very young and too pretty to waste herself on widowhood,” replied Mrs. Leigh with the smile of one who knows a great secret. “Besides, he left her quite destitute—”
“Mama,” scolded Mrs. Tate with a frown. “That is unkind.”
Mrs. Leigh waved it away. “I am merely speaking the truth.”
That silenced the group, though the significant looks that Benjamin and Mrs. Tate sent each other and David spoke clearly enough. When people veiled criticisms in the cloak of “honesty,” it was simply an excuse to make themselves appear virtuous, for truth-speaking didn’t require one to spout every cruel thought that entered one’s mind.
But correcting Mrs. Leigh was like attempting to bail a sinking boat with a teacup.
Clearing his throat, David turned back to the subject at hand.
“I had Miss Lyons and Mrs. Ellery on my list of possibilities as well. I didn’t know if they had attended last night, but of the ladies I know, they are the most likely to…fit the bill.” David managed not to stumble too much over the words, though he was certain a blush was stealing across his cheeks.
Those ladies were foremost on his list as they were the only ones he knew who were bold enough to kiss him in such a fashion, though he wasn’t about to admit that to the Leighs. Yet David would wager a large sum that the lady he’d embraced was uncertain in their kiss. The timidity of someone unused to such affection.
And wasn’t that a contradiction? Demure enough to be shy in those overtures, yet bold enough to steal a few kisses at midnight.
“Miss Sheridan!” exclaimed Mrs. Tate.
“Who?” asked her mother before David could do the same.
Straightening, Mrs. Tate raised her brows as a smile stretched across her face. “Little Miss Rebecca Sheridan. She was there, and I am certain her costume was akin to what Mr. Archer described.”
“She’s hardly more than a child,” said Mrs. Leigh with a laugh.
But Mrs. Tate shook her head. “She had her coming out last year, Mama.”
Casting his thoughts to the family, David tried to see her in that light. As the Sheridans resided in his parish, he was acquainted with them as much as occasional conversations after Sunday services afforded a person, but he couldn’t say with any certainty that he knew Miss Sheridan well enough to judge whether it had been her beneath the Mystery Lady’s mask. However, she was a pretty young lady, and the little he knew of Miss Sheridan spoke well of her.
“I would say of all the possibilities, Miss Sheridan is your best,” said Mrs. Tate with a decisive nod. “The more I consider it, the more convinced I am that she was wearing the costume you described.”
However, there was no reason to discount anyone at this juncture. Better to widen his search than to overlook one of the ladies. Miss Hooper, Miss Lyons, Mrs. Ellery, and Miss Sheridan. Four possibilities. Surely one of them had to be his Mystery Lady.
Turning his attention back to the matrons, David asked, “Do you know what mornings they entertain?”
“Why pay calls?” asked Benjamin. “They are all likely to be at the Hyatts’ picnic next week. You can spend a little time with each and not waste your time traipsing about town.”
“Paying a call on a possible sweetheart is hardly a waste of time,” said David with a huffing laugh.
Benjamin shrugged. “You rarely have time to spare.”
And there was a lot of truth to that. As he sat in Whitley Court, his work was multiplying, and David knew all too well how easily it became overwhelming without constant care. His schedule was filled to the brim already, and finding any time for social calls during his busiest hours was hardly going to help matters.
“Perhaps you are right,” said David. “I doubt I’ll have time to make all the visits before the Hyatts’ party, and it shouldn’t take long to identify which lady it is, so there’s no reason not to be efficient.”
“You speak of courtship like another task to be completed, Mr. Archer,” said Mrs. Tate with a scoff. “Surely you should take some enjoyment from it.”
“He will have enjoyment enough once he locates the lady,” said Benjamin with a waggle of his brows.
Mrs. Tate’s cheeks heated. “Benjamin!”
But his mother merely laughed and murmured her usual endearments for the man who would forever be her “dear boy.” For his part, David fought to keep from tugging at his collar as it was strangling him at present. The innuendo rife in Benjamin’s tone would make any young man blush—especially as it was accurate.
Turning away from her brother, Mrs. Tate drew in a steeling breath and continued, “While your plan certainly seems…economical with your time restraints, I fear that it is of no use when it comes to Miss Sheridan. If I recall correctly, her mother said they were leaving this very morning to visit her sister in Whittingford for a few weeks. I believe they are to return by Michaelmas, but they shan’t be around for the Hyatts’ picnic.”
